


Watcher In The Woods

by BadHidingSpot



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, References to Drugs, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadHidingSpot/pseuds/BadHidingSpot
Summary: ”What?” Billy asks, not turning to look at Tommy because there’s no way looking at Tommy while he talks is more necessary than seeing Steve drench himself. But Tommy did mention Steve and so he’s slightly more invested in the conversation.”Byers. Byers was watching Steve and Nancy do it from the woods and he tookpicturesof it. So Steve found the pictures and-””How did he see them?” The last lap. Steve is going for the water bottle. But Steve, for once, has proper hand eye coordination and doesn’t spill all over himself. Billy glares with disappointment.”What?””From the woods. How did Byers take pictures of them doing it from the woods?””Oh um, I guess you can like, see into Steve’s bedroom from the woods or something.””Seriously?” Billy actually turns to look at Tommy now.





	Watcher In The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yes I apparently just write Harringrove fan fic now and do nothing else so here we go.

Billy is only barely paying attention while Tommy drones on about how weird Byers and Wheeler are as a couple. Billy doesn’t care but as long as he’s not expected to respond to Tommy he can live with it. Billy is busy right then anyway watching Harrington run laps, his Bigger-Than-God cock visible through those loose running shorts they make them wear. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Steve stops to rehydrate and Steve always, without fail, spills water down the front of his shirt on accident. Billy finds he’s drumming his fingers with anticipation on his knee.

”I mean Steve kicked his ass for watching.” 

”What?” Billy asks, not turning to look at Tommy because there’s no way looking at Tommy while he talks is more necessary than seeing Steve drench himself. But Tommy did mention Steve and so he’s slightly more invested in the conversation. 

Steve doesn’t drench himself yet though, he decides to go another lap. Billy is sure to catch his gaze and wink as Harrington runs by. 

”Byers. Byers was watching Steve and Nancy do it from the woods and he took _pictures_ of it. So Steve found the pictures and-” 

”How did he see them?” The last lap. Steve is going for the water bottle. But Steve, for once, has proper hand eye coordination and doesn’t spill all over himself. Billy glares with disappointment. 

”What?” 

”From the woods. How did Byers take pictures of them doing it from the woods?” 

”Oh um, I guess you can like, see into Steve’s bedroom from the woods or something.” 

”Seriously?” Billy actually turns to look at Tommy now. Tommy perks up, so excited to finally warrant a look from Billy Hargrove. 

”Yeah. Seriously.” 

Billy beams and shakes his head. “What a perv,” Billy says and Tommy thinks he means Byers but Billy is mostly talking to himself. 

”Ah fuck! Again?!” Steve shouts so loud they can hear him across the track and Billy turns quickly to see that, yes, Steve has drenched his shirt. Billy is annoyed to have missed it, the moment of truth, but Steve takes the shirt off and Billy tries to memorize the way he does it. Steve pulls it off from the bottom upward like most girls do. Not from the neck and forward. Billy finds that kind of interesting. More interesting than whatever Tommy is on about now. 

It takes him a while to find the exact right spot. The woods are big but the area that you can see The Hargrove House (or maybe Estate is more accurate; the place is almost as big as Harrington’s cock) from is finite. Billy isn’t sure which window is Steve’s for a bit. He has to wait about twenty minutes for Steve to come home and turn on various lights in the place. Billy can’t actually _see_ Steve do this but he can follow the trajectory through the lights. First the foyer, obviously, then the kitchen, up through the hall, and finally Billy identifies the top right window as Steve’s final destination. Billy notices that Steve doesn’t go back downstairs to turn off any of the lights. If Neil saw Billy wasting that kind of electricity he’d skin him alive. 

The curtains are closed and Billy starts drumming his fingers again. Waiting, waiting, waiting, for Steve to open those curtains. He sees the “big light” in the room go off but a smaller light, most likely by Steve’s bed comes on. And it doesn’t go off. Billy waits for a long time, actual hours, but that light doesn’t turn off. The curtains only open once with a tentative slowness and Steve looks out. He scans the forest and Billy steps behind a tree keeping his eyes on Harrington. Then, satisfied but still looking shaken up, Steve closes the curtains. Billy waits a little longer but it gets late to a point where Neil will be pissed if he doesn’t get home and he has to leave. Before going, he makes a little mark on the tree with his pocket knife. A harsh “S” and “H” so he knows which tree to find tomorrow. 

He comes back every day for two weeks and it’s always the same. Lights in the foyer, kitchen, hall, bedroom, open curtains, scan the woods, close curtains, bedside light never goes off. Billy figures he must just sleep with all those lights on all night. To keep from being caught Billy finds a ladder in the junkyard and uses to climb to a high branch in the S.H. tree. From there Steve can’t see him. Steve always scans the ground and never lifts his inspection upwards to the tree line. Billy even searches his room for his old binoculars and brings them out but it doesn’t matter; Steve keeps the curtains closed. 

Billy accepts that what he’s doing is pretty sketchy but he doesn’t care. He satisfies himself that he’s not actually _seeing_ anything. If he were he wouldn’t be so angry. He doesn’t jerk off. Not exactly. But there are more than a few nights (maybe all of them) that while Billy is straddling the tree he grinds down into the bark the harsh bite of it through his denim enough to get him off. If he were caught he’d be ashamed of it. But since there is simply no possibility of him being caught it makes it even more exciting. He’s alone with Steve and Steve doesn’t even know it. Steve is just in his room, thinking he is unwatched, doing whatever it is that Steve Harrington does when he is alone. 

Billy starts to obsess over it a little bit; what Steve’s room looks like. He’s only been to the one party at Harrington’s and didn’t get a chance to explore the room. He searched during the party but the house was so damn big and twisty he couldn’t find it. From this angle, with the binoculars, we could sit and watch comfortably if Steve would only keep the curtains open longer than two minutes. There’s something anger inducing about it that he’s watching Steve invisibly and can see him in a quiet private moment like this, but it only lasts a few minutes. The binoculars improve things, he can start seeing Steve with great detail and clarity pull the curtains open, he can see the true look of fear on his face as he scans the forest, hoping he won’t see….well whatever it is Steve is scared that he _will_ see. So scared that he never has the curtains open save for those two minutes a night. 

Billy has an itch for it now. He _needs_ to see into that bedroom. Needs to tear those curtains down. Needs to see what privacy Steve has left going on behind them. Billy thinks about tearing them down himself next time he goes to a party there. They wouldn’t even have to know he did it; it could be blamed on general party rowdy-ness. And sure, maybe in a couple days new curtains would be up, but there would be at least one night where Steve Harrington could not hide what he does in his bedroom from Billy Hargrove. 

It’s Friday between third and fourth period when Billy learns that his watchings aren’t going entirely unnoticed. He’s taken to watching Steve at school now, sometimes overtly (as he’s done since day one) but the practice he’s had going unnoticed in the trees has made him better at doing it privately. He can watch Steven between classes, at study hall, during lunch, and during the science class they have together and Steve has no idea. 

Well, Billy finds out, he has some idea. Sort of. 

Steve is talking to Byers, the boy with the face of a 60-year-old-man, outside of his locker. The late bell has rung and Billy is hiding just behind the hall corner wearing his headphones but with his walkman turned off. Just in case he gets caught. Which he won’t. Because he never does. 

”I’m being watched,” Steve says to Byers urgently and Billy can hear the terror in his voice that matches his eyes when he opens his curtains. 

”What do you mean?” Byers sounds sympathetic and like he even believes Steve without any kind of teasing or jostling. Byers is accepting this at face value. 

”I don’t know. I mean I don’t have any proof or anything. It’s just a _feeling_.” 

Billy’s stomach does a happy kind of turn knowing that Steve can, in fact, feel Billy watching him. 

”At first it was just at my house but I’m starting to feel it all the time now. I don’t know, Johnny.” Billy grimaces because when did Jonathan Byers become Johnny to Steve Harrington? Before or after he took pictures of Nancy? Or after he just plain took Nancy? The conversation is too trusting for two guys who’ve dated the same girl. 

”It’s okay, man,” Byers says back, voice still kind and believing, “maybe we should do a stake out or something?” 

Billy tenses. He tenses because that could make his eveninging viewing not only curtail but eliminate them completely. He resents that the viewings are only two minutes long but if those two minutes are taken from him, he’ll make Byers choke on his own teeth. 

”I don’t know. It could be,” Steve gulps, “it could be nothing. I feel it a lot now though. Like right now. Right now I feel like we’re not alone.” 

”We’re at school.” 

”It’s-yeah I know. But it’s different. Do you feel it? Does Nancy?” 

Billy can hear Byers shrug. “Not really, no. And she hasn’t mentioned it to me. Do you think you’re being targeted?” 

”I don’t know. But there’s something. I know it. In the woods.” 

”You want me to stay over?” 

Billy squeeze his walkman so hard he almost snaps it. 

”No,” Steve sighs. Billy hears him press his weight against his locker. “No. No nothing like that. It’s probably nothing. I’ll be fine.” 

”I’m sure it’s fine, Steve,” Byers offers. The conversation ends there. He hears them shuffle off in different directions but neither of them round the corner to see Billy there gritting his teeth and squeezing his walkman. He lets go. If he breaks it his dad will be pissed. 

This does not, in anyway, stop Billy from watching. In fact the next week is even better because he knows that Steve knows he’s watching but he doesn’t know that it’s Billy. That thought makes his grinding on the tree bark more intense because that look of fear in Steve’s eyes, that suspicion of the woods, that’s for _him_. That’s _his_ look and _his_ feeling that _he_ gives to Steve. 

He still wants more though. He wants to see the inside of that bedroom so badly and that Wednesday an opportunity presents itself. 

”A pool party?” Susan asks looking at Max incredulously. Max was wearing a dress Susan bought her at the beginning of the year that she hadn’t once yet worn. Billy had wondered about that when he drove her to school that morning and now he has an explanation. Max _wanted_ something so she had to look as dainty and well-behaved as possible. Max looked completely out of place in the baby blue frills and so uncomfortable. She must have wanted to go to this pool party really bad. 

”Yeah. At Steve Harrington’s house. You know he’s the Captain of Billy’s basketball team.” That wasn’t right but Billy was pretending to watch _Cheers_ and couldn’t correct her. 

”Why do you want to go to a teen pool party?” Susan is clearly not okay with this idea. Max must have waited for Neil to be out of the house to ask. 

”It’s not a teen pool party,” Max rolls her eyes, “it’s for all the neighborhood kids. Like Lucas will be there, and Dustin, and Will, and Mike. Nancy Wheeler will be there,” Max added and this fact did seem to warm Susan to the idea, a little. “Will’s older brother too. Just as like chaperons and lifeguards. But Steve was like ‘I have a pool, we should use it’.” 

Susan made an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat. “I don’t know, Maxine. I’ve never met this boy's parents or anything. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” 

”I’ll go with her,” Billy offers pressing mute on the TV. He turns his head around from the couch to look at them standing in the kitchen. Susan is shocked that he’s said anything at all. 

”You will?” Susan seems delighted with this and Max is horrified. 

”Sure. Just to make sure nothing weird is going on. I’ll drive her home at the first sign of trouble.” 

”Well all right,” Susan beams at Billy like she’s never seen him before, like he’s a totally new person. So helpful! So generous! 

”No!” Max shouts. “Mom! I don’t want him to go!” 

”Maxine either Billy goes with you or you don’t go. I’m sorry but that’s the deal.” Susan crosses her arms: the one sign that a conversation is over. Done with. Final answer. 

Max makes one long angry groaning noise that is supposed to be the word “fine” as she stomps off to her room. Susan shoots one more grateful smile at Billy who flashes her one back. Why not give Susan a smile? Just once. She’s his catalyst to finally tearing those god-damned-ugly-as-fuck-curtains down. 

After Susan takes off to go do whatever it is Susan does during the evenings, Max comes out of her room and storms into Billy’s. He’s pulling his boots on and getting ready to go out Watching. She better not make him late. He glares at her. 

”I won’t do anything to your stupid friends, all right?” He says. “I’ll just hang with the older kids. You won’t even know I’m there.” 

”That’s not the problem,” Max huffs. Billy pauses mid-lacing and looks at her quirking an eyebrow up. 

”Then what?” 

Max looks around as if to make sure they’re really alone. Which is stupid. Of course they’re alone. 

”There’s not, like, actually a pool party.” 

Billy is disappointed but intrigued. He stands tall, crosses his arms, looks down at her amused. “No?” 

”There’s this thing we have to do. And it’s going to take all day and Saturday night too maybe. I was going to call mom and ask to spend the night at El’s.” Billy tries to remember which one is El. Probably that weird homeschooled girl who didn’t speak much. If Susan actually met that girl he’s not sure she’d be comfortable with a sleepover. “Which I can’t do now, obviously,” Max whines on, “if you’re supposed to be there.” 

”Hm,” he takes out a cigarette, “what were you going to do if your mom called The Harrington’s to check in?” Billy doesn’t really care but he’s idly curious about Max going to such great lengths just to stay out all night. He remembers when he was her age climbing out to go night swimming and being stung up by jellyfish but it had been so worth it because he and his friends had been alone and loud and wild. If Neil found out Max had been out all night--well it wasn’t going to happen. He blew smoke into her face just so she’d take a step away from him. 

”Nothing. The Harringtons aren’t in town. Nancy was going to just call and make excuses for us.” The bright orange cherry of the cigarette fell. 

”The Harringtons aren’t in town?” Billy cares much less about this convoluted plan to throw shit into the quarry, or whatever version of night swimming kids did in Hawkins. 

”Yeah they’re at some vacation thing or something. I don’t know. Look you can’t-” 

”This thing you’re doing all night,” Billy injects, “it’s important to you?” 

Max glares at him. Her shoulders tighten. She nods. “It’s really really important.” 

”Fine,” Billy takes a long drag letting the cigarette burn as close to his fingers as possible, “let’s make a deal.” He exhales but this time aims the smoke away from her. He’s feeling giddy and generous. 

”I don’t take orders from you,” She snaps. 

”It’s a deal, dumbass. Not an order. I’ll cover with Susan and everything. Say the sleepover was on the up and up. Have Nancy tell her that I’m staying over too to keep an eye on things.” 

”You can’t come!” Max shouts and Billy tosses the butt at her in annoyance. 

”Let me finish.” She looks dubious. “I’ve got my own thing I need to be out all night for on Saturday.” 

”What like a date?” 

Billy shrugs and smiles because kind of it is. In a way. With no Harrington’s on the premises he can get into that room unhindered. He can walk around in it. Live in it. See the much sought after private court of King Steve. “Yeah.” 

”Is it the one you’ve been sneaking out to see all month?” 

Billy actually laughs at that and nods. 

”What’s her name?” 

”Nunya,” Billy’s getting sick of her and he’s late to see the curtains open. He pulls on his jacket and heads to the door. “We got a deal or what?” 

Max shifts a little. “No questions? We just, like, cover for each other?” His hand is on the door knob now. 

”Or I call Susan and say you were just trying to spend a night with your boyfriend. Whatever you want, Maxine.” 

She looks like she wants to hit him for that. Instead she spits into the palm of her hand and holds it out to him. He grimaces, not because it’s gross but because it’s so childish. He complies anyway, spitting into his own and slapping them together in a shake. She squeezes as tight as she can clearly trying to hurt him. He pulls off easily and rushes out the door, foot heavy on the accelerator of his Camaro. He doesn’t miss the curtains and there’s something extra special about knowing that he’ll soon see what’s behind them up close and personal. 

Saturday comes slowly and he drops Max off at The Byers’ place. All the kids have bikes and are waiting for her. He doesn’t see that El girl but he doesn’t stay long to investigate. 

”Nine a.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late.” 

”You don’t be late,” She sneers and slams the door hard like always. Billy just rolls his eyes and kicks up dust pulling out. He has better things to do. 

He hides his car just a mile up the road and hidden well enough off it that he no one driving will notice it. He goes through two packs waiting all day but he re-reads Pet Sematary so it’s not a total waste. He needs it to be dark, darker than usual so no one calls the cops on a break in at The Harrington Estate. Although the place is so deserted, he’s not even sure they have neighbors. But rich folk always look for reasons to call the police and Billy doesn’t need any interruptions. 

He carries the ladder from his tree, now etched with a few other markings he’s made while waiting for The Curtains, and carries it to the house. He goes completely around the pool and he’s not sure why. There’s just something off about it. Something eerie and lingering that he doesn’t want to mess with. But he figures that’s just the chill of Pet Sematary lingering in his mind. It is pretty dark after all. There’s a light on in the foyer, he can tell, but not the small lamp in Steve’s bedroom. The Harrington’s probably left the foyer light on to trick burglars, like himself, into thinking someone was home. If he listens he can even hear the TV on low downstairs. It’s just the news so that’s almost definitely a red herring as well. 

He climbs, not testing the ladder for safety, he’s too eager for that. Although when he thinks about it, he’s been really patient. Incredibly patient by his own standards of wanting and waiting. It’s been almost a month of just two minute glimpses through binoculars in the woods and now it was going to be real, tactile, and three dimensional. He thinks about how it’s going to smell. He’s going to have to take a shirt or something. Just one. Something old probably, that Harrington won’t miss. Something to take back to the tree. 

He knows that’s strange, beyond strange, but it’s not stranger than anything else he’s been doing in regards to Steve Harrington. The window is locked, he figured it would be and so he’s planned for that. The Harrington’s have the old windows, the ones where the latches sit right close to the gap. Billy, licking his lips, takes out his knife and slides it in. He twists, he shimmies, he shakes the ladder even, but he doesn’t care because not only does he not fall, he unlocks the window. It’s a little hard to push up. Not just because he’s doing it from the outside, but because it hasn’t been opened in a long time. 

The scent hits him like a brick and he closes his eyes taking it in. The curtains are still in his way but he wants to take this moment in. This is such an important scent. 

He pushes those curtains away and he can’t see much because it’s dark, but he sees enough to climb in and place his boots heavy on the ground. He searches with his hands in the dark for that lamp next to the bed. 

And then something sharp and rusty hits him in the face. 

He goes down quick mostly because he wasn't expecting it. He wasn’t expecting anything. Light floods in and Billy touches his face. There’s blood. His eyes adjust to the light and he looks up to see- 

Steve Harrington. 

Wielding a baseball bat with nails pierced into it. Say, does that bat look kind of familiar? 

”Fuck!” Steve curses staring down at Billy in awe. “Hargrove?” 

”The fuck, Harrington,” Billy winces sitting up and holding his face. It feels like a lot of blood. 

”What are you doing in my house?” 

”Why do you have a baseball bat with nails in it?” 

”Protection. The fuck are you doing?!” 

”Protection from what?” Billy is filling with a rage. Not from the pain. He’s used to the pain. It’s at Max who implied that Steve and his whole family were going to be out of town. 

”I thought you were-shit,” Steve tosses the bat down and goes to pick Billy up off the floor, “I thought you were a burglar or something. The fuck are you doing here?” 

”Is it bad?” Billy asks trying to make himself sound kind of pathetic. He can tell Steve feels guilty about putting a bunch of nails into his face. He needs to lean into that or else he’ll have to explain what he’s doing there. 

Steve grimaces. “I’ve got a first aid kit. Come on,” Steve leads him into his own private bathroom. Billy could tell from the outside layout of the house that there was more than one bathroom, but he hadn’t guessed Steve got one all to himself. Steve sits him down on the tub and pulls Billy’s hand off of his wounds. “Shit! Fuck! Okay just stay conscious,” Steve turns to his medicine cabinet and starts rummaging around. Billy feels all right now. He’s had worse things than this from Neil’s boots. He must look really bad though because Harrington is freaking out. Billy tries to look past him and see the room but it’s hard when Steve himself is there, hurriedly shuffling out Iodine and bandages in an old t-shirt and sweats. Something Billy recognizes at this point as Steve’s go to sleep wear. Steve kneels down in front of him and turns his face to look at the wound. Billy decides to play up the injury. 

”God it really hurts,” he whines. 

”I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” Steve starts to pat at the blood with a warm washcloth and Billy makes a hissing noise with each touch just so he can hear Steve coo at him, “It’s gonna be fine. It looks worse than it is. I know it stings.” Billy thinks that yeah, Steve might be a good babysitter after all. 

”You have your own bathroom?” Billy starts looking around. It’s basically clean. He figures the Harrington’s must hire someone to do it regularly as he can’t see Steve on his hands and knees scrubbing bathtubs once every two weeks. Steve isn’t really paying attention to him, just the blood and scratches on his face. 

”Yeah,” He answers without much thought, “how bad is it? One to ten.” 

The pain is only about a three by Billy’s standards but Steve looks like he feels so bad. The bathroom is about as big as the Hargrove family bathroom in his house. He’s trying to drink all the details in. There are clothes on the floor. Tons of them have missed the hamper. There are at least five copies of MAD Magazine on top of the toilet. Each one has been read, Billy can tell because the fold out page on the back of each one is creased. Steve’s towels are hunter green which Billy thinks is out of place. He always pegged Steve for a soft blue kind of guy. 

”Seven,” Billy answers. “This is your bathroom? Everything in this bathroom is all yours?” 

”Yeah. So what?” 

”The first aid kit? The Iodine? The shower curtain?” 

”Yes, yes. So?” 

”The Farrah Fawcett hairspray?” 

”Yes! It’s mine! The whole bathroom is mine! I’m trying to clean your-” Steve stops because Billy is smiling. He’s more than smiling he’s biting into it and watching Steve with puck-ish amusement. “Well, I mean…” 

”So that’s your secret?” 

”Shut up,” Steve grumbles, taking the Iodine out and cleaning the cuts with it. Billy plays the stinging up with this too. “Hold still.” 

Billy does hold still because he’s never been this close to Steve for this long before and he likes the attention. Even if he had to take a few nails to the face for it. 

”Still got my good looks, Doc?” 

”Those aren’t going anywhere.” 

”Nurse Harrington, you flatter me.” 

”What the fuck are you thinking?” 

No getting away from it now. He’ll have to answer this time. 

”I heard you were out of town. I wanted to smoke some pot and can’t at my house. The old man would smell it.” 

”I’m not out of town.” 

”Yeah I have the scars to prove it.” 

”It’s not going to scar.” Steve is done cleaning the wound now and starts to bandage it up. Billy notices that Steve has all kinds of things in his first aid kit. It’s actually pretty big for a normal bathroom kit. Billy glances and sees that in big childish lettering someone has written “Cleric” on it. There’s every size of bandage in the kit and Steve seems to have the right kind for Billy’s injuries. “My parents are out of town.” 

”You didn’t want to go?” 

Steve scoffs at that. “They don’t invite me. How’s the pain now?” 

Billy feels kind of bad for Steve. All alone in this large house with his fear of the “Thing” watching him in the woods. No wonder he struck an intruder. “Got me down to a five, Nurse Harrington. You’re kind of good at this.” 

”It’s not my first time.” 

Billy waggles his eyebrows. Steve rolls his eyes but there’s kind of an almost smile pulling at his mouth. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

”That’s not sanitary.” 

”Yeah it is,” Billy counters, “there’s stuff in saliva that breaks germs down.” 

”You want me to lick your bloody face?” Billy gives and ambiguous “hm” and leaves it at that. “Can’t you smoke pot in your car or at the quarry or something? You have to break into my house?” 

”I didn’t break in. I shimmied the lock. A break in would have attracted attention.” Part of Billy is annoyed that Harrington isn’t angrier about this. Maybe he can rile him up a little. “Quarry is boring. And I like to relax and take my time. Maybe play a little music.” 

”You’re so fucking weird.” 

”You have no idea.” 

Steve stands up and leaves Billy alone in the bathroom. Billy steps out and see him closing the window, locking it tight, scanning the tree line a little longer this time. It’s strange for Billy to see the Curtain opening from this angle. He can see Steve’s shoulders tense, most of his body actually, and he can see Steve’s fingers drumming in anxiety on the sill. 

”You didn’t, like, see anything out there did you?” Steve asks nervously. 

Billy leans in the bathroom doorway and shakes his head. “Like what?” 

”Like, I don’t know. Like someone else? Or...you know. An animal or something, maybe? Like kind of, yeah, like an animal?” 

Billy snorts. Steve is being so jumpy. Billy did that to him; he made Steve Harrington jumpy. “You want to know if I saw E.T. out there or something?” 

Steve shuts the curtains and turns on the bedside light. It’s a lot brighter than Billy anticipated. Steve practically sleeps with the room fully lit from that lamp. “You break into my house and you’re being a dick.” 

”You hit me with a bat.” 

Steve winces. He still feels terrible. “Yeah well. I thought I was in danger.” 

”You still could be.” Billy winks and bites his tongue between his smile. Harrington is so scared of him; it’s fucking delightful. 

Steve jumps. Not from Billy but because there’s a loud pounding on the front door. He curses. 

“Fuck!” Billy swears, “did you call the police?” 

”No,” Steve says rushing out the door, “It’s Johnny and Nance. I called them for back up.” 

”You called Byers and Wheeler for back up?” 

Steve is already out of the room and down the stairs. Billy thinks to follow him but stops. 

He’s alone. 

He’s alone in Steve Harrington’s bedroom. 

This is exactly what he wanted. He turns around the room and it’s less clean than the bathroom but definitely cleaner than the rooms of other teen boys. Steve has a lot of the basic stuff: weights, band posters (Billy moans because one of these is a George Michael poster and it’s pretty close to Steve’s bed), a lava lamp, and some other poster with a woman on it. Who is that? Kathy Ireland? Steve maybe has a thing for blondes. Billy notes that her poster isn’t nearly as titillating as the George Michael one. In Kathy’s poster she’s almost respectably dressed. Just one tight pink leotard and the picture stops at her waist. There’s not even cleavage. 

Harrington has some more “Steve Specific” shit around the room too. Dirty clothes on the floor and pictures of him and his many friends at many parties and school functions on the wall. Not framed on the wall, no, just hung up there with scotch tape. Billy grimaces because when those come down they’re going to ruin the paint job. Neil would have him skinned if Billy did anything to ruin the paint job in his bedroom. There’s a planetary model hung up near his desk and Billy gently pokes it with is index finger and watches it spin. It’s not accurate. Mercury is almost as big as Venus and Jupiter isn’t nearly the right size. None of it is to scale but a red “100” is written on Earth telling Billy that Steve’s teacher evidently cared more about effort than accuracy. 

This isn’t enough. Billy wants to take off his shoes and shirt and feel the carpet, get the texture of the bed sheets right, take a long nap drenched in the scent of Steve Harrington. 

Speaking of which, Billy steps out of the bedroom and quietly goes down the stairs. He listens in to the conversation. It _was_ Wheeler and Byers at the door. They look like they’re armed as well. This is confusing and he waits for explanation. They can’t see him. They don’t know he’s there and Billy gets a boner by association now because he’s so used to watching Steve when he doesn’t know he’s there. 

”So you nailed him?” Byers asks. There’s a long pause and then Wheeler snorts. She elbows Byers and he gives her a little smile. 

Steve is rolling his eyes with his whole body. “That’s great. Yeah that’s great, Johnny. You tell one joke a year and you decided to blow it on that one? Seriously?” 

Byers shrugs still amused with himself. 

”This is serious, okay?” Steve hisses. He runs his hands through his perfect boy hair. “I hit him in the face with my bat. I thought he was the demogorgon!” 

”Well he’s not,” Nancy says trying for kind but to Billy she seems a little annoyed. “Just tell him to go or you’ll call the police.” 

”He might need stitches,” Steve whines, “I can’t send him off after that.” 

”You don't have to ask him to stay. He broke in,” Byers chimes in. 

”He didn’t actually break anything. He more shimmied the lock on my window,” Steve explains and Billy makes a concentrated effort not to laugh. 

”He brought a ladder?” Nancy asks now investigative. Incredulous. Steve might have bought his smoking pot theory but Wheeler is smart and she has that whole Nancy Drew thing going on. She might actually interrogate. The boys don’t really respond to her. “That’s a lot of work just to smoke some weed. Couldn’t he just ingest it?” 

”Making it into edibles is worse for smell and it takes like at least an hour,” Byers answers completely unflinching. Billy is, just a little, impressed. “What?” Byers asks. 

”You smoke pot?” Steve is shocked and amused. 

”Well I listen to The Romanes so…” 

”Do you have to smoke pot to listen to The Ramones?” Nancy wonders. 

Byers shrugs again. “It helps.” 

”Can we please get back to the psycho in my fucking bedroom,” Steve hisses and Billy isn’t sure if he’s insulted or flattered by the title. There’s something sexy about being labeled someone dangerous and chaotic. 

”We can’t really deal with this right now,” Nancy sighs, “the kids are in the woods with Hopper. We have to get back.” 

”Do you want one of us to stay?” Byers offers. “Or maybe you should come with us?” 

Steve presses his palms into his eyes and groans. “No. Fuck no. I’m fine. I’ll get rid of him or pay him off or something. I’ll think of something. You guys should go.” Billy gets excited. Steve is shoving them off and he’s happy he doesn’t have to grind through an evening with Byers and/or Wheeler killing his good mood. 

”You’re sure?” Nancy’s hand is on the door knob as she asks this and Billy can’t believe someone so ungrateful got to have sex with Steve. She’s practically itching to run off with wizard-face-Byers into the woods to do who the fuck cares what. 

Steve nods dropping his hands. “Yes. Yep. Definitely. I’m fine. He spooked me is all. I think I can handle William Fucking Hargrove.” 

Billy heads back upstairs as they leave and takes off his shoes. He sits on Steve’s bed, tests the bounce, and then lounges back. He winks at the George Michael poster. When Steve returns he leans in the doorway. 

”They had to go,” he explains. 

”Date night?” 

Steve scoffs. “For them, kinda. They’re a little weird.” Steve comes over to the bed and crouches down to look at Billy’s injuries again. He winces and Billy licks his bottom lip thinking Steve looks hottest when he’s wincing. “How’s that California dream feel?” 

”I’m not going to sue you, Harrington.” 

”I feel bad.” 

”You should feel bad,” Billy glances down at Steve’s hands which still have a little of his blood on them. “You should wash your hands too.” 

”You can smoke the pot here. If you want.” 

”Seriously?” Billy is pretty flattered by this until he remembers that he doesn’t actually have any pot. Hasn’t had time to find a dealer yet here in Hawkins but maybe he should touch base with Jonathan The Ramones Byers to get some shit. “Nah. It’d be weird with you here.” 

”It’s my fucking house, Hargrove.” 

”I prefer to smoke alone. Besides I’m kinda tired. Let’s say you just tuck me in?” Billy leans back all the way on the bed making sure his shirt rides up at his waist and noting that Steve does look. 

”What?” Steve’s mind is somewhere else. Probably with his gaze on Billy’s exposed skin. Billy sits up and takes off his socks. 

”I’m tired and I can’t go home with my face like this.” He stands so he can take his jeans off and only then does Steve turn away all shy. Like he hasn’t watched Billy change in the locker room or showered next to him. 

”Fine. Sure. I’ll just-I’ll get the light. It’s late so.” Steve keeps muttering on his way to the other end of the room. He turns the light off and climbs into bed. Billy is on the side next to the window and he turns off the lamp. “Don’t!” Steve says shooting up and Billy pauses. 

”What? I can’t sleep with that bright at shit light on.” 

”Right. No. Yeah.” Steve lays back down. “Of course.” 

Billy can feel Steven pulsing next to him, fingers drumming and body twitching in fear. 

”Hey man? Can you do me a favor?” 

”Hm?” Billy is a little lost right now, his body so close to Steve’s, in the same bed, sharing the bed that Billy’s been aching to see in the room he’s coveted for weeks. He’s not so much listening to Steve’s voice as he’s hearing it like a calm lullaby. 

”Can you look at the window? See if you see anything.” 

This brings Billy back to reality. He sits up. “What?” 

”Just...I can’t sleep. Can you please just look out? Tell me if you see something-” 

”Weird. I got it. Sure,” Billy gets out of bed, regrettably because he was so comfortable. Those sheets are probably Egyptian cotton or some shit and they’re soaked in Steve scent. He thinks about using this opportunity to rip the curtains but instead he does as asked. He looks out over the pool and backyard. He scans the tree line. Unlike Steve, he looks up in the trees as well to see if he sees anything. He tries to spot his tree but is satisfied that it’s invisible from here. Whatever Steve is afraid of, it’s not in the trees tonight. He closes the curtains and climbs back into bed. “Nothing. Quiet as the grave out there Harrington, and twice as lonely.” 

”You’re sure, right?” 

”If anything comes for you in the night, Harrington,” Billy promises, “I’ll keep it off you.” 

There’s a tired little laugh then a muttered, “Thanks,” before Steve is completely asleep. Billy stays up for a little longer. He keeps looking around the room and taking in more detail. He counts the sports trophies and ribbons and tries to read them in the dark and from a distance. Finally, he turns his body onto his side and watches Steve sleep. 

The only thing from the woods after Harrington tonight, is Billy Hargrove. And, at least tonight, he’s content to just watch.


End file.
